


First Rule of Fight Club

by literaryoblivion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Fight Club - Freeform, Fights, M/M, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It becomes a regular thing after that, their weird werewolf fight club taught by a human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Rule of Fight Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chiomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiomi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Speaking of Fight Club . . .](https://archiveofourown.org/works/895589) by [Chiomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiomi/pseuds/Chiomi). 



> This takes place around Season 3a in a parallel universe where Erica and Boyd are still alive and stay that way because I do what I want. :)
> 
> I'm so glad I was able to remix this piece from Chiomi, whose fic was the jumping off point to mine. I highly recommend you read hers first if you haven't already since mine is a continuation of it. I thoroughly enjoyed all of her works, but this one was the one that kind of stuck with me and inspired me the most. I hope she likes where I took things!

It becomes a regular thing after that, their weird werewolf fight club taught by a human.

Derek tries not to think of it that way though because it inherently makes him feel insignificant and inferior. Not that Stiles purposefully acts like he’s above them in some way. It’s all in Derek’s head and he’s tried to ignore it, but sometimes it creeps up on him.

Because Stiles is good. Really good. It turns out he knows more than judo, too. He also knows ju-jitsu and a little bit of taekwondo. Most of his skill is in taking opponents down who are stronger, bigger, and have weapons, and Derek tries not to let himself think about the reason why Stiles got so good at those types of maneuvers when he was so young.

Despite what he and Scott have said, that the Sheriff insisted Stiles learn self-defense, with certain moves and things, Stiles says things while he’s training them like he _knows_ first-hand that this certain move will work on someone Isaac’s size or Derek’s size. He doesn’t think Stiles went out and picked fights with people to prove himself when he was in middle school, but then again, maybe this isn’t his first fight club? It’s a preposterous thought, but there are things Stiles likes to keep to himself, things he’s not even sure Scott knows about.

Either way, with Stiles’s help, they move away from relying on their supernatural strength and claws, and rely more on strategy, measuring up their opponent and analyzing the situation before jumping in to attack. It’s something that takes a while for Derek to get used to, having relied on his werewolf abilities to get him out of something and jumping in head first most of his life. He’s let his anger be more than an anchor these days, let it become a driving force in his decisions and actions. He’s learning to get better though; the training is helping. Stiles is helping.

Derek, though, tries to stay back during Stiles’s lessons. He lets Stiles use him in demonstrations, makes Isaac and Peter (and Scott sometimes when he’s not working at the clinic) fight and spar against each other. Stiles doesn’t comment on it, lets Derek be his only partner, and lets him stand back to watch while he corrects Isaac’s stance or gives tips to Peter.

He never says anything about Derek not joining in until after they try to rescue Boyd and Erica.

~

The mission is a close call, but they do find Boyd and Erica alive, barely, but alive nonetheless. With Stiles being more and more involved with their pack, Derek doesn’t question or protest his involvement when he tags along when they go to find them. He thinks about it later, once it’s already too late for him to tell Stiles to stay behind, that they can handle it on their own, that he needs to stay out of the way to be safe. But by then, they are in the thick of the fight, and he can’t do anything but watch as one half of his pack tries to rescue and fight for the other.

It turns out letting Stiles come with them is a good thing, since Erica and Boyd end up being trapped in walls of mountain ash and he’s the only one that can break through them. Derek feels helpless and useless at that. As the alpha, it’s his responsibility to take care of his pack, but in the end he can do nothing. He did his fair share of fighting the alpha pack’s beta henchmen that were keeping watch outside Erica and Boyd’s prison (although it’s Isaac, Scott, and Peter that fare better, having taken Stiles’s lessons to heart). But it doesn’t stop the guilt he feels about not being able to do more, about not finding them sooner, about not letting them get captured and taken in the first place.

They all help each other limp back to the cars when all is said and done. Scott, Isaac, and Peter take Erica and Boyd to Deaton’s clinic to be checked out and to be bandaged up themselves. Derek feels he should go too, but Scott insists they can take care of it, that he has a key to the clinic and can wait inside for Deaton to arrive. Derek finally cedes and watches Isaac, the least injured of the pack, take Derek’s car and drive away.

“Guess that means you’re with me,” Stiles says from behind him, the last to leave the abandoned bank vault Erica and Boyd had been trapped in.

“Guess so,” he says. “That alright?” he adds because he realizes that it’s not like Stiles owes him a ride; he could just as easily walk home, although he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah, man, of course. How else are you going to get home? Don’t say run.”

Derek bites back a tiny smile because that was what he was going to say. When did Stiles get so good at knowing what he was thinking? He follows Stiles to his jeep, parked down the street.

From behind he tries to assess the damage Stiles has sustained. He doesn’t look quite as bad as Isaac and Scott had, mainly because Stiles let the werewolves fight each other while he figured out a way inside. He does have a few rips and tears in his shirt and jeans from when Scott threw Stiles back to shield him from an attack, but Derek doesn’t see any dried blood. Stiles looks like he’s walking fine, not limping or stumbling, so he probably hasn’t sustained any head injuries.

When they get to the car and they both slip inside, Derek turns to face him and notices a few scratches on his face and arms, bruises already forming there as well.

“You okay?” he asks Stiles when he puts the key in the ignition. Stiles stops before turning the key and looks down at himself like he doesn’t know if he’s okay or bleeding out somewhere he can’t feel.

“Uh yeah. You?” He looks over to Derek, and his gaze passes over all of him, assessing him like he had done to Stiles. He actually hasn’t checked for any wounds on himself either, figuring they’d probably be healed by now. They weren’t alphas they were fighting, so it’s not like he would have wounds still visible at this point. If anything, all Stiles is seeing is dried blood and ripped clothing, but he’s positive his body is unmarred.

“Mostly.”

Stiles nods and starts the car. The drive to Derek’s loft is silent aside from the music from the radio. Derek doesn’t think it’s uncomfortable; they are both exhausted from the night’s events and talking and trying to come up with small talk takes too much effort.

It’s when Stiles pulls up to the loft before Derek’s unbuckled his seatbelt to get out that Stiles finally says something.

“I think maybe I should teach you more. You know, judo and things.”

“I’m sure the pack would find it helpful. Erica and Boyd would appreciate it once they’ve recovered, I’m sure.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No. Not the pack. I mean you.” Derek lifts an eyebrow, but Stiles continues. “I haven’t said anything, but… the sessions are for you too, but you don’t participate.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek says angry even though he knows Stiles is right.

Stiles sets his jaw, firm, in reaction to the flare of anger from Derek. “I mean that letting me throw you around is not the same as learning to defend yourself.”

Derek doesn’t quite know what to say to that, so he doesn’t, just glares at Stiles instead even though he knows the truth of Stiles’s words.

“I could… maybe it’d be better if I just taught you alone? Like a private session?”

Derek looks up, thinking about it. It’s not a bad idea; he should be doing more to learn from Stiles instead of playing victim when he’s doing the training with everyone else. Part of the reason why he hadn’t done more than let Stiles use him as a tool of demonstration was because he was still trying to keep up appearances with his pack. He doesn’t know why, probably instinct. Showing how weak he is, how incompetent he is as an alpha to his pack, was something he did not want to do or even allow himself to do. It wasn’t like the pack thought he was a perfect alpha, they knew his faults, but he still couldn’t bring himself to lose face on something so small after he’d already disgraced himself in so many other ways.

It might be better to have it just be he and Stiles. Stiles doesn’t treat him like an alpha, and Derek doesn’t expect him to, doesn’t expect him to show him the same respect his betas do, not that Stiles ever would anyway. In many ways, Stiles has become Derek’s equal, and he’s not sure how he let that happen, let this snarky, lanky teenager be someone he can rely and trust enough to tell him what to do and put him in his place.

“Private might be better, yes,” he finally replies after a space of silence, Stiles waiting patiently for his answer. “Where?”

Stiles seems to relax a little with his answer, and he shrugs. “Your loft has more space, but if you’re worried that won’t be private, we could do it in my backyard?”

“Your backyard is better. For now, anyway.”

Stiles nods. “Okay. Well tomorrow’s Saturday, and I don’t have any plans. We can start tomorrow if you want? After lunch?”

Derek gives a firm nod of his head. “See you tomorrow. Thanks for the ride,” he says and then exits the car to walk up to his loft. He can hear Stiles sigh in the car before he drives off.

In the shower, as he’s rinsing off the blood and dirt, he realizes he’s agreed to private lessons with Stiles. He’s not sure what to expect, and part of him is dreading what will happen.

But the other part of him… the other part is excited, excited to learn how to be better, excited to prove himself as an alpha, and excited to have time alone with Stiles.

And that last bit is what freaks him out the most.

~

Their first session on Saturday is… awkward.

Derek is so used to letting Stiles demonstrate on him that when he has to reverse it, and take what Stiles has shown him and use it against him, he freezes. It’s not because he doesn’t know how to do it; that’s never been the reason he hasn’t participated.

The reason is that he doesn’t want to hurt Stiles.

Even though they are taking it slow and Stiles reassures him that he can take it, Derek doesn’t trust himself. But after several half-hearted attempts to take Stiles down or knock him off, Stiles has enough.

“You’re not even trying!” he yells, getting right in Derek’s face.

“Yes. I am,” Derek retorts, although not as firm because it’s a lie.

“No, you’re not.” He throws his hands up in the air. “I _know_ you can do this, Derek, and you haven’t even knocked me to the ground once in the thirty times you’ve done the move. What are you so afraid of?”

They are very close, Stiles having stepped in Derek’s space to yell at him, and Derek didn’t step back. Stiles is staring into his eyes, a pleading, searching stare that Derek doesn’t quite know how to handle.

“You,” Derek finally says, but it’s just barely audible, like he’s trying to hide the answer from everyone and including himself.

Stiles eyes widen in shock. “Me? But I’m—“

Derek cuts him off. “Not you, not in the way you think. I mean… I’m… afraid I’ll hurt you.” His voice is quiet again, and Derek can tell that Stiles wants to huff or roll his eyes or scoff at Derek’s statement but he doesn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he reaches out and gently touches Derek’s arm, letting his hand drift all the way down to Derek’s hand before he grabs on to it. His touch is electrifying, and Derek can feel it, still feel it all the way down his arm, the trails his fingers left still present to Derek. He stares down at their clasped hands, and Derek doesn’t know what to do, or know what he’s feeling at the gesture.

“You won’t,” Stiles says, ducking his head so he meets Derek’s eyes, getting him to finally look back up at him instead of their hands. “I promise. I’ve handled much worse, and I would tell you if I couldn’t take it. If you did hurt me, though, it would be an accident. It happens.”

Again, Derek is reminded of Stiles’s mysterious past. How much worse has he handled that wasn’t a werewolf? He thinks he shouldn’t ask, but Stiles brought it up and he’s curious.

“What do you mean worse? Worse than me? A werewolf? What are you not telling me, Stiles?”

Stiles sighs and drops their hands. He rubs a hand over his face and then runs it through his hair, making it stick up in an odd way. “Let’s go inside,” he says. He doesn’t wait for Derek to answer, just turns around and walks back to the house, leaving the back door open for Derek to follow.

He follows Stiles up the stairs to his bedroom, and despite the fact that they are alone in the house, he still shuts the door behind him. It feels like this might be an important private moment, and every semblance he can give of privacy for Stiles, he will.

Stiles sits on the edge of his bed and pats the mattress next to him for Derek. Derek obeys and gingerly sits next to Stiles, close enough to wrap an arm around his shoulders if he needs to but not close enough that they are touching. He wants to give Stiles space but let him know he’s there if he needs him.

He waits, staring at Stiles as the teenager blows out a breath and rubs his hands on his thighs like he’s trying to gear himself up. Finally, Stiles sits up straighter and turns his body slightly to face Derek. He doesn’t look at him though, keeps his eyes down, focused on his hands that are resting in his lap.

“A few years ago I kind of got involved with some people… with something I shouldn’t have…. Scott doesn’t know about it, ‘cause I never told him. He wasn’t around much then because it was when his mom and dad were still trying to figure out a joint custody situation, so there were some weekends he wasn’t here. And… I got bored and lonely. So I decided to try to make new friends… I was still taking judo at the time, and I thought it might be cool to actually get to use my skills instead of having to hold back in class. I was an idiot.”

Stiles shakes his head like he’s ashamed of what he did when he was younger.

“I overheard some of the older kids in my judo class talking about this club where they all go to basically show off. I listened long enough to find out where and when they did it and decided to go check it out. They would have never invited me, but I figured if I happened to show up they might not mind if I stayed out of the way, you know?”

He finally looks up at Derek, as if needing an answer is the only way for him to continue. Derek nods and Stiles resumes.

“Anyway, the first couple times I hid in the shadows to watch. It was under some bridge on the other side of town, and I stayed far enough away for no one to notice. But… it looked fun. So after hiding out long enough, I finally worked up the courage to get closer. I thought they’d immediately yell and tell me to go home, but instead they invited me in, swore me to secrecy all that jazz.”

He stands up, takes a few steps to walk back and forth from the edge of the bed, like he can’t stand to sit there any more. Derek sits, his eyes never leaving Stiles.

“They finally let me fight for a few rounds, and it… felt good. I wasn’t as good as them, but they showed me how to get better. And they taught me other things that we hadn’t learned in class yet, or probably wouldn’t ever learn in class. I got better and fought more and more, and I kind of… got addicted to it? The adrenaline rush was amazing, and I was so excited to actually apply what I had learned for so many years.”

He sounds so thrilled when he says it, like he’s reliving those experiences, feeling that adrenaline again, the feeling of achievement when he’s victorious in a fight. Then he stops pacing and all the pleasure and happiness that had been on his face melts away to something more somber and guilty. “But then… I got carried away.”

He comes back to sit on the bed again next to Derek, and his demeanor has changed so much so quickly that Derek can’t help but reach out his hand to pat his thigh, comfort him. It doesn’t seem to faze Stiles who powers on through his story.

“I started purposefully sneaking out and going to really sketchy areas so I could fight people, people who wanted to hurt me instead of just the kids in my class who were goofing off. I knew of all the right places to go because of my dad. I don’t know why I did it. Cause I thought it’d be fun? Thinking that I had enough skill and agility that I could beat anyone I came across? And I did beat them at first… drunk guys wanting to let off steam outside the bar, shady characters in alleys that were probably selling drugs or something. But I got too cocky.

“The guys started to get bigger than me, brought weapons, and I stupidly thought I could take them. Egged them on, you know? Then one night…” Stiles buries his head in his hands, and Derek is positive he’s crying. He scoots over closer to Stiles, deciding now’s the right time to put his arm around his shoulders. Stiles leans in to the touch, and Derek can hear him sniff a few times before he soldiers on.

“I don’t really remember what happened. I think there were six or seven guys? I know a few had knives and one had a gun. They all ganged up on me, and the next thing I know I’m being shaken awake by the bar owner asking if I’m okay. I had a lot of cuts and bruises, and my wrist was broken, and although it wasn’t like my leg was broken, I was in too much pain to walk. The owner called an ambulance and the cops, so of course my dad showed up.

“I lied, told him I had met up with some friends and we had gotten separated and I had gotten lost. Said some gang of guys just attacked me and I couldn’t remember much else. After that I stopped. I almost stopped judo, too, but my dad was so worried about me after that, he insisted I continue so I knew more to defend myself.”

Stiles leans back to look at Derek, wiping the tears from his eyes. He shrugs. “So, that’s my story.”

Derek doesn’t know what to say. It’s much more than Stiles has ever revealed to him about his past, and the fact that he’s never even told his dad what happened let alone Scott must mean he trusts Derek a great deal. It’s an overwhelming feeling to have someone trust you that much.

“Stiles…” He stops because he honestly can’t finish the sentence. Stiles sighs.

“Look, Derek, I didn’t tell you that so you’d feel sorry for me. I told you so that you would know that I trust you. That I can handle it when we’re sparring because I know you’re not going to hurt me. I’ve had people who’ve wanted to hurt me on purpose and they don’t care or try to be careful, but you do. And I appreciate it, I do, but I don’t want that to hinder you from learning, okay?”

Derek finds himself bobbing his head because he gets it. And maybe his heart swells and there’s warmth in his chest when Stiles says it out loud that he trusts Derek. He remembers a time when they had both told each other the opposite, and now that things have changed, he’s glad for it.

This time, he takes Stiles’s hand in his, and he catches the small smile that shows on Stiles’s face when he does.

“Thank you… for telling me that. I trust you, too,” Derek says, staring deep into Stiles’s eyes to try to convey how serious and truthful he is.

“I know.” Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand and grins wider. He stands up from the bed, their hands still clasped. Derek stands too, unsure of what is happening, but excited to find out.

“Come on,” Stiles says. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat; we’ll do some more training later.” He pulls on Derek’s arm, and Derek willingly trails after Stiles out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

As he watches Stiles grab his keys and beckon him to the jeep, Derek lets the warm feeling he felt earlier settle in his chest. He knows that he and Stiles have had a big moment just now in their relationship, that that relationship might be forming into something more than just a tenuous friendship.

And Derek, surprisingly, is okay with that. In fact, he’s more than okay.

He’s hopeful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Fea](http://jimmynovakisaved.tumblr.com) for beta-ing.
> 
> Come say hi on [my tumblr](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com) or [my twitter](http://twitter.com/lit_oblivion)


End file.
